


Protect the Coven

by MissThang17



Category: American Horror Story: Coven, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Magic, Witch Stiles Stilinski, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-09-11 22:39:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9037814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissThang17/pseuds/MissThang17
Summary: Stiles joins a coven of witches in New Orleans, just as dark forces come to destroy it. As werewolves, hunters, and voodoo users surround the young witches, protecting the coven becomes top priority. But can Stiles protect himself from the love of the enemy?





	1. Witches Don't Wear Batman T-Shirts

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! Just a quick note, Fiona is the Supreme, there's no rising one taking her power, and she's less chaotic evil and more chaotic neutral. As always in my fics, Stiles is dressed up like a lady, because....just because. Enjoy!

"Well, this ain't no Hogwarts."  


Sheriff Johnathon Stilinski shot his son an unimpressed look, but it went unnoticed by the young boy, who was gazing at the large house in front of them.  


Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies was quite the spectacle. A large, pristine manor in the heart of New Orleans, it's beauty somehow blended in with the lush, green landscape surrounding it. A large, wrought iron fence marred the entirety of the home, but as the two Stilinksi's stepped forward, the gate swung open on its own accord. The older man whipped his head over to his son.  


"Was that...did you...?"  


The boy shrugged, "I'm not the only freak here, Dad."  


The sheriff grasped the boy's shoulder, staring down at him intently. "You're not a freak, Stiles, you're my son."  


"You're both right," a drawling voice pulled the two from their conversation.  


On the grand porch of the house stood a beautiful blond woman, in her late fifties, if Stiles were to guess. She was dressed head to toe in black Chanel, her lips painted red, her eyes gleaming with ill concealed mirth.  


"I'm Fiona Goode, but don't let the name fool you, I'm always up to no good," her voice had a sultry, Southern drawl to it.  


"John Stilinksi, pleasure to meet you Miss," John shook the woman's hand, trying not to let her see how uncomfortable he felt under her gaze.  


"I'm Stiles," the boy introduced, "but you can call me Elphaba."  


Fiona turned to Stiles, a smirk on her face. "Oh, we got ourselves a smart ass. It will be nice having some comic relief in this house. Don't bother with your bags, I'll have Isaac come and fetch them for you. Finish your goodbyes and meet me inside."  


Fiona turned and walked into the magnificent manor, leaving the father and son to say their goodbyes.  


"I guess this is it," John began.  


"I guess so..."  


The two shared a strong embrace, neither of which wanting to let go. Finally, John detached himself from his son.  


"Be safe, I don't trust that Fiona woman," he warned.  


Stiles huffed, "She's the Supreme dad, if I can't trust her who can I trust? Plus she's family...sort of."  


John shook his head, "She may be your grandmother but Cordelia never had a kind word to spare for that woman. Promise me you'll be careful."  


Stiles nodded. "I promise, Dad."  


The two hugged once more before separating, John returning to the cab and Stiles entering the large house in front of him, neither looking back.  
Inside the mansion, in a lavishly decorated sitting parlor, Stiles found Fiona sitting primly in an armchair across from three young girls, all roughly his age, all wearing black.  


"Girls," Fiona spoke, "meet your newest sister witch: Stiles."  


An immaculately groomed redhead snorted. "Either witchcraft is more inclusive than I thought or this chick needs a strong dose of hormones."  


"Wait, are there no boy witches?" Stiles asked in confusion.  


Fiona lit up a cigarette, despite the annoyed looks the four shot her. "Normally, witchcraft is a legacy passed on only to women, witches have all been female dating back to the Salem Witch Trials. But you, dear Stiles, have the essence of a woman, and the energy that surrounds you is strongly tied to nature. I believe that, were you not born into a family of witches, you would be some other form of magical creature, though we are happy to have you, male though you may be."  


"Yeah, it'll be nice having some man candy around the house," the curly haired blonde in the room replied with a lusty smirk.  


"Settle down, Erica, the boy is gay," the redhead stated dismissively.  


"Wha? How did you know that?!" Stiles squawked.  


"Lydia's clairvoyant," the brunette replied with a small smile.  


"Plus it's practically written all over his face," Fiona teased as she exhaled a puff of smoke.  


"As fun as I'm sure it is picking on the new kid," Stiles said admonishingly, "why don't you tell me why I'm here?"  


Fiona gave him a small smirk, before putting out her cigarette in a crystal ashtray.  


"You're here," she stated, "to learn to control your gifts, just like the others before you.  


Witches are a dying breed, fewer and fewer of those carrying the bloodline are reproducing, and hunters have become especially brazen. Not only do we have to defend our castle from the outside, but the inside as well. My sources inform me that a pack of werewolves have settled not too far from here, and the voodoo queen Marie LaVeau is never to be trusted. You four will learn everything I can hope to teach you about the craft, and will become the fine young women, and man, of our clan that I know you can be, understand?"  


Stiles wanted to question the woman further but the intense look on her face stayed the words on his tongue. With another smirk, Fiona excused herself from the room, leaving Stiles with his new witchy classmates.  


"So, what are you in for, cutie?" Erica questioned, pulling the boy onto the couch with her and Lydia.  


"Well....when I turned eighteen, my dad told me about my mom's heritage. She was a witch who used to study here, before she moved to California. He told me that I might be a witch too, which freaked me out pretty bad. I get panic attacks, and when I started to shake, so did the house."  


"Whoa," Erica responded, eyes wide.  


Stiles shrugged. "I passed out sometime after that. When I woke up, the house was nothing but a pile of wood on the ground. My dad is the Sheriff of our town, he covered it up with some story about an earthquake, and had me brought here."  


The three girls stared at the boy in awe, who was beginning to feel uncomfortable.  


"So," he coughed awkwardly, "what about you three?"  


Erica smirked at the boy, her eyes mischievious. "I set my deadbeat boyfriend's truck on fire when I found out he was cheating on me. Carrie Underwood would have been proud. They couldn't prove it was me seeing as I didn't use any lighter fluid or any other 'combustible solutions.'" She rolled her eyes, "Anyhow, that's how Miss Fiona found me, she applauded my handiwork and practically dragged me here by my hair."  


Stiles let out a low whistle, impressed.  


"I came of my own volition," Lydia remarked, sensing that Stiles would question her next. "I've always just....known things, things about people, their lives, answers to questions no one asked. When I was fifteen, I knew about this school, about Miss Fiona, and about my ancestry. I packed my bags and told my parents I was leaving, not that they cared. I've been here ever since."  


Lydia smirked and cocked her head towards the brunette. "And Allison here killed her boyfriend."  


Stiles whipped his head to look at the now beet red girl. "Is that true?"  


Allison shrugged, her eyes cast downward. "It was an accident. We were...being intimate and he seized up, blood coming out of his eyes, nose, ears....the Council of Witchcraft found me crying over him. They're still not sure how or why my powers manifested this way, but they brought me here all the same."  


Lydia rolled her eyes, uncrossing her legs and rising out of her armchair. "Alright, that's enough sharing for one day. Come on girls, we need to get Newbie here ready for the makeover."  


"Makeover?!" Stiles squawked as Erica and Allison grabbed him by either arm and hoisted him off the couch, twin lecherous grins on their faces.  


"Yep," Lydia spoke as she led the three out of the house and into the streets. "If you're going to be a witch, you have to start dressing like one. Witches don't wear Batman T-shirts."  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  


Miles away, in a dilapidated part of New Orleans known as the Ninth Ward, a beautiful young woman sat on a throne made of bones and feathers. The woman wore intricate, tribal clothing, her eyes gleaming wickedly. Before her lied a cauldron, bubbling and frothing and glowing an unnatural shade of green.  


The woman sneered at an image of the four young witches ambling down the street and, with a flick of her wrist, the cauldron vanished.  


"It's time to get rid of those white witches once and for all," she declared.  


  



	2. Night Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight rape trigger warning, but no actual rape occurs and the sensory details are pretty tame.

If there was one thing Stiles hated, it was shopping. Most clothes he found were loose and baggy, too big to fit his short, skinny frame. Fortunately for him, Lydia was a styling genius. She and the girls dragged him into several boutiques, grabbing pants and shirts and jackets that looked androgynous and edgy. Everything was going well until Lydia thrust a little black dress into his hands.  


"You're joking," Stiles said in disbelief.  


"You have the figure for it," Lydia responded factually. "And our uniform for class is black dresses and skirts."  


"Miss Fiona expects all her rules to be upheld," Allison added.  


"Plus you'll look hot," Erica added bluntly.  
The three girls shoved Stiles into the dressing room, cackling as they did. Stiles stepped out in the dress, as well as the matching Louboutin heels Lydia had thrown in after him. He eyed his reflection in the mirror. The dress hugged his natural curves, but didn't make look overly feminine. The shapely nature of his legs were highlighted, but his chest remained flat, though not in an unattractive way.  


"It actually looks...pretty good," he conceded.  


Clearly this was the wrong thing to say, as the girls snatched him up once again and forced him into every piece of women's wear the shop had to offer.  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  


The sun had begun to descend when the four made it back to the mansion, each with four shopping bags in hand. They entered the foyer, dropping the bags onto the marble floor. Before Stiles could ask why the others merely left the bags on the ground, a tall young man entered the room. He wore a smart button down shirt, a bow-tie fastened on his neck, and a pair of black trousers. He had curly blonde hair and a sweet face.  


"Isaac, please take these up to Stile's room for him," Lydia requested, her eyes not leaving her phone.  


"Certainly," he replied smoothly, plucking the bags from Stile's hands and scooping the others off the floor before retreating upstairs.  


"We have a butler?" Stiles inquired as he sat on the couch with the others.  


"Yep, Allison is totally in love with him," Lydia stated bluntly as Allison sputtered indignantly.  


"I am not!" She retorted, her cheeks beginning to redden.  


"Doesn't matter," Lydia waved her hand dismissively. "We need to get ready to go out."  


"Go out? We just got back!" Stiles protested.  


"It's Friday night, we always go clubbing on Friday night," Erica said with a shrug.  


Stiles groaned but trudged upstairs all the same.  


The room assigned to him was spacious, with sparse but cozy furnishings. There was an en suite bathroom and a decent sized walk in closet. Stiles cursed Lydia's name as he realized she had Isaac remove all of the clothes he brought with him and left only the new clothes they had just purchased.  


He pulled on black skinny jeans and a tight black camisole, shrugging on a cropped red jacket over it. He fussed with his hair for a short second before exiting the room and heading downstairs.  


The girls were waiting for him by the landing, each in a sexy but tasteful outfit. The four strutted down the streets of New Orleans, ready to conquer the night.  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~  


The club the girls frequented was crowded and loud, but didn't card. The four made their way to their usual booth, teasing the blushing young waiter who came to take their drink orders. They chatted and laughed while they waited, until Lydia tensed in her seat.  


Four leather clad men had entered the club, seating themselves at the bar. They hadn't noticed the table of witches, focusing instead on their beers and the music playing overhead.  


"We need to leave," Lydia spoke, her face pale.  


"Why? We just got here and our drinks haven't even arrived. Momma needs a cocktail," Erica whined.  


"Those men over there are werewolves," Lydia spoke lowly as not to attract their attention.  


"So? They haven't even noticed us," Erica retorted.  


"I need to pee," Stiles announced. "When our drinks get here we will down them, pay, and go somewhere else. We'll be safe and Erica will get her fix, deal?"  


The two nodded in agreement as Stiles excused himself, his boots clacking against the floor as he made his way to the men's room.  


Stiles exited the stall he was using and went to wash his hands. He shut off the water just as two men stumbled into the bathroom. They were roughly his age, judging by the fraternity jackets they wore, and the stench of alcohol reeked on their breath.  


"Hey, the ladies room is down the hall," one said to him.  


"I'm a boy," Stiles snapped.  


"Are you now," the man said, a lecherous grin on his face. "Well that don't bother me at all, sweetheart."  


Stiles, realizing where this was heading, backed away, only to bump into the wall. One man boxed Stiles in by pushing his arms on either side of his head, leaning in close, while his friend stood near the door, blocking the exit.  


"You're awful pretty," The man said, his breath hot on Stiles' face. "You here alone?"  


"No, my friends are with me and they're probably looking for me so I should go-"  


Stiles was cut off as the man placed a finger forcefully on his lips.  


"Shhhh," he whispered. "Don't worry about them, you're with me now."  


Stiles wanted to run, to fight back, but he was paralyzed in fear. He tried desperately to summon his powers, but his anxiety was scattering his thoughts. The faucets turned themselves on and the stall doors shook, but the men were too intoxicated to notice.  


"I'm gonna have some fun with you," the man said, grabbing Stiles' chin and leaning in for a kiss.  


"-just saying he could try not to be such a dick," Stiles heard as two more men entered the bathroom.  


"What's going on here?" A tall, muscular man said, taking in Stiles' terrified expression, crossing his arms across his broad chest.  


"Mind your own business," the man holding Stiles spat.  


The tall man grabbed Stiles' assailant by the back of his shirt, before slamming him into the stall door, while his companion did the same to the other frat boy.  


The two men scampered out of the bathroom, running into the door as they did so.  
Stiles didn't realize he was shaking until a voice broke him out of his thoughts.  


"Are you okay?"  


Stiles recognized the two leather clad men from the bar, and he realized his situation may have just gotten worse.  


"I-I'm fine," Stiles said, averting is eyes. "Thank you."  


"No problem," the shorter man said, giving him a crooked grin. "What's your name?"  


"I'm Stiles."  


"Nice to meet you Stiles. Ya know, if you ever need rescuing again, you could give me your number."  


"Scott," The taller man warned.  


"What? I'm just saying!" Scott said.  


"I have to go," Stiles said quickly before practically running out of the restroom.  


He marched up to the booth the girls were in.  


"We're leaving, now." Stiles said.  


"But you haven't even had your margarita yet!" Erica exclaimed.  


"You finish it," Stiles called out as he, Lydia and Allison began to make their way to the exit.  


"Alright," Erica said as she downed her drink, as well as Stiles', and raced to catch up with the three.  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  


"How could you have all been so reckless," Fiona spat dangerously, lighting a cigarette. "I warn you of all the dangers lurking outside these walls and what do you do? You share drinks with those beasts, those _wolves_."  


"Technically, they didn't even know we were there," Erica began, but quieted down at the murderous look Fiona gave her.  


"Those men saved me from being raped," Stiles argued.  


Fiona chuckled lowly. "Do you really think they would've come to your aid if they knew who you are, _what_ you are? Witches and werewolves have been enemies for centuries, going back to the days of Salem. They blame us for their affliction, and will stop at nothing to eradicate us. You four will be staying here, in this house, until I say otherwise."  


Fiona then dismissed them, but not before complimenting Stiles' new wardrobe with a smirk.  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  


"Stiles is so cute," Scott said with a dreamy smile. "I hope I see him again."  


"If he sees you he'll be running away screaming," his friend hollered from the couch.  


"Fuck off, Jackson!"  


As the two began to wrestle, Derek Hale ignored his betas in favor of thinking of the mysterious boy. As beautiful as Derek found the boy, there was something about his scent that was...off. 


	3. Like Armor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added in some Fiona feels because they were done in such a perfunctory manner on the show.

"Concentrate."  


"I'm trying."  


"If you were trying, we'd be done by now."  


Stiles shot a glare at his Supreme but returned his focus to the candlestick on the table before him. He stared it down, willing it to move, but his thoughts soon drifted to the incident at the club a few nights prior.   


_If Scott and his friend hadn't shown up, I could've been raped,_ he thought to himself.  


The panic and fear he felt that night came creeping up on him, and Stiles began to hyperventilate. Before Fiona had time to react, the grand piano placed in the corner shot across the room and smashed itself against the wall.   


Fiona wrapped her arms around the trembling boy, guiding him to the couch.  


"Shhh," she whispered soothingly. "It's going to be alright."  


She released him once he stopped shaking, getting up to grab a cigarette from the ornate cigarette box that belonged to the Supreme before her.   


"I didn't realize how bad your anxiety is," she said, lighting her cigarette with a snap of her fingers, sitting gracefully in the armchair across from Stiles. "I'm sorry for not being around while were growing up. I was a rotten mother to Cordelia, I abandoned her here when having a daughter started to make me feel old. When I heard she gave up her position here as headmistress to marry some Sheriff living in California, without even sparing me so much as an email, I knew just how much she must hate me."  


Fiona took a long drag from her cigarette, blowing a plume of smoke into the air. "I came back to take care of this coven, try to right some of the wrongs of my past, but I never got the chance to tell your mother just how much I love her before she died."  


"You know," Stiles spoke softly, "she didn't hate you. She didn't approve of your parenting style, but she always told me how strong and graceful you are. She never stopped loving you."  


Fiona looked at her grandchild in shock, wiping a stray tear from her eye. "Thank you, Stiles. I think I needed to hear that. You're training is done for today, please tell Erica it's her turn. And have Isaac come clean up this mess."  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~   


"I'm so boooooored," Erica moaned, flopping onto Stiles' bed. "We've been cooped up in this house for days!"  


"We're working on it," Stiles called from the closet, rifling through a hidden cupboard he found the day before.  


Allison was drawing a symbols on the ground with a piece of chalk, while Lydia leafed through an old spell tome she had found in the library wing of the house. Stiles returned from the closet with a box of white candles in his arms. He placed them in a circle by Allison's chalk drawings, careful not to smudge any of them. Erica joined the others as they began to form a circle inside the candles, flicking her wrist and lighting them as she did.  


"Are we sure about this?" Stiles asked nervously.  


Lydia nodded. "I've read through the ritual a hundred times, it's basically idiot proof."  


"Plus anything is worth a chance at getting our freedom back," Allison added.  


The four joined hands and began to chant, reciting the words Lydia had them memorize earlier.  
 __

_Quod spiritus sint,_   
__

_Exaudi orationem meam,_   
__

_His quattour tueri,_   
__

_Latet quid ded praeteritis nostris!_   


Upon the last word, the candles blew out at once, plunging the room into darkness. A cold, biting wind had picked up in the room, creating a cyclone around the witches.  


"Don't break the circle!" Lydia shouted over the rushing of the winds.   


Soon, the winds died down, and an ethereal blue light engulfed the circle, wrapping itself around the four and expanding across the entire room. After a few short seconds, the light retreated, ad the candles lit themselves once again, everything back to normal.  


"Did it work?" Erica inquired. "I don't feel any different."   


"My foot's asleep, but I don't think that counts," Allison supplied.  


"Oh, it worked all right," a voice from the doorway made the four jump.  


"I didn't really think you girls had the stuff," Fiona said with a smirk, ignoring Stiles muttering 'I'm a boy.' "You've done a marvelous job, I can feel the protective magic circling you. If you want to go out, you have my permission. Just remember, protection spells are like armor, each one has a weak spot, and they won't protect you forever."  


The four raced past her, eager to get back into the world, thanking her as they did. The Supreme chuckled, shaking her head as she retreated to her room.  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  


The streets of New Orleans were alive with lights and people, a small festival taking place, for what Stiles couldn't be sure. The young witches made their way through the streets, dancing and drinking with the locals. The girls went to their usual club, while Stiles decided to prowl around the streets some more. He had just tipped a talented, and kind of cute, saxophone player when he bumped unceremoniously into a wall of muscle.   


"Stiles?" The voice makes Stiles' blood run cold, and he looks up to see the smiling face of the werewolf Scott, whom he was told expressly to stay away from.  


"Uh, hey...Scott, right?" The taller boy's face lit up even more at the recognition.  


"I never thought I'd see you again," he said, looking down at the other boy with puppy dog eyes.  


"Yeah, well..." before Stiles could finish his sentence, a handsome but arrogant blonde approached the two.  


"C'mon Scotty, we're gonna be late." He spared a quick glance at Scott, before turning his full attention to Stiles. "So is this the dude you won't shut up about?"  


"Shut up Jackson," Scott growled, punching his friend in the shoulder. He turned back to Stiles, a hopeful smile on his face. "So a couple friends and I are gonna go catch a horror movie, wanna come?"  


Stiles was about to politely decline when Jackson gave him a smirk. "Unless you don't think you can handle it, Princess."  


Stiles shot the boy a dark look, before smirking. If only he knew.  


"I'd be delighted to go," Stiles said smoothly, using some of the charm Fiona taught him. "As long as you're there when it gets scary."  


The wolves gaped at the sudden display of sensuality from the boy, before Jackson barked out a laugh. "Touche, Princess, touche."  


As the three made their way through the crowded streets, Stiles allowed himself to forget all about the dangers of werewolves, and let his guard down.  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  


At the bar of their usual club, Allison excused herself to use the restroom, assuring the other girls that she would be fine. She moved towards the bathroom until Lydia and Erica turned their attention back to the bar, and turned on her heel and marched towards the exit.  


She walked down the street from the club, into an abandoned alley, where a man shrouded in shadow awaited her.  


"You knew I was here," the man said proudly.  


"You've been following me since I left the mansion," she spoke, her arms crossed.   


"I'm here to take you home," the man said, stepping out of the shadows.  


"I am home," Allison spat, tucking her hair behind her ear.  


"You don't belong in that house of witches," the man hissed. "You're an Argent, a hunter! We kill people like that!"  


"Whether you like it or not, I am one of those people," Allison said lowly. "Now leave, before I make you."  


Chris Argent let out a weary sigh. This wasn't going the way he had hoped. "Allison, I love you. Don't do this."  


Allison willed the tears away, turning from her father and walking back towards the busy street. "Goodbye, Dad."  


~*~*~*~*~*~*~  


Inside, Erica was about to go look for Allison when Lydia let out a blood curdling scream, falling to the floor and writhing in pain. As a small crowd began to form around her, a gunshot rang out from outside the building. People screamed and ran for the exits, pushing and shoving one another.  


"Lydia? Lydia! What's wrong?" Erica cried, holding her friend to her chest.  


"Allison," was all she whispered, before falling unconscious.  



	4. An Act of War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little longer, as I wanted there to be some pack scenes added. I hope you all like it, and please R&R!  
> P.S. I like to think that in this universe, all magic is the same, but is practiced differently, like different religions, hence why there's such hostility between the voodoo tribe and the coven.

The sound of boots smacking against tile floor was all that could be heard as Stiles raced down the white halls of the hospital, earning a few glares from the night nurses as he did. In his haste, he forgot to check the nurses station to find Allison's room, instead closing his eyes and focusing as Lydia had taught him.

_When I want to find something, I close my eyes and stop thinking altogether, I let my body do the rest._

Stiles found himself slowing down, turning a corner and stopping. When he opened his eyes, he saw a room with the door open, his friends and Supreme inside.

"There you are, where have you been?" Erica interrogated.

Stiles paid her no mind, looking instead at Allison's unconscious body. "Is she going to be okay?"

"Doctor says the bullet went right through her shoulder," Fiona said from behind a cloud of smoke in the corner. "Her body will heal in time, and she'll be stronger for it."

"This is a hospital," Lydia commented dryly, casting her eyes upon Fiona's cigarette.

"What? It's electronic. Nothing but water vapor and nicotine." 

Stiles pushed his way to Allison's side, pulling a jar of grey sludge from his bag.

"What is that stinky shit?" Erica complained, covering her nose.

Stiles pulled down Allison's gown, exposing her wounded shoulder. He pulled off her bandages, ignoring the protests from the others, and rubbed some of the sludge onto her wound. He placed his hands over it and began muttering lowly, before wiping the gunk away, revealing a completely healed shoulder.

"How...how did you do that?" Lydia asked incredulously, her eyes the size of dinner plates.

Stiles shrugged. "My mom used to put swamp mud on all my wounds when I was a kid. I never realized it was magic, I always thought it was just some weird, folksy tradition. I found the healing spell that goes with it in one of the books she left me."

Fiona stood slowly, walking over to gaze upon the healed flesh. "I haven't heard of witches using swamp mud for healing spells in over a hundred years." She shook her head, smiling. "Leave it to my daughter to stick with tradition."

She patted Stiles on the arm, praising his work as she went to charm a doctor into discharging her student.

Before Stiles could ask the girls what happened, Lydia gasped, looking at him in shock.

"You were with the _wolves_?!" She cried, pointing a finger in accusation.

"Keep your voice down," he hissed. "Yes, I ran into Scott, the guy who _saved_ me, in the street. He offered to take me to see a movie with him and his friends and I accepted. Big whoop."

"Big whoop? Fiona's gonna kill you!" Erica whispered .

"I'm like sixty percent sure she won't kill her only grandchild," Stiles said, unsure. "And every one of those guys was kind and friendly and super hot."

Lydia crossed her arms, already knowing how she and Erica were going to handle this.

"Fine, we won't say anything, but you be careful," her eyes softened. "We almost lost a friend today, we don't want anything bad to happen to you."

Stiles crossed the room, hugging his sister witches. "I care about you guys too."

"What am I? Chopped liver?" A hoarse voice called from the bed.

The three turned to see Allison, looking pale and tired but otherwise fine, smiling weakly at them. The three rushed to give her hugs, careful not to jostle her too much.

"Allison, what happened to you?" Stiles questioned.

"Hunters happened," Fiona replied, reentering the room with a little plastic bag. "The policemen who found her spotted this lodged in the wall of the alley."

The four looked into the bag, noticing the glint of silver.

"Silver bullets don't do shit to magical creatures," Fiona spat bitterly. "But all hunters use them out of superstition. This is an act of war, we must be ready for when they strike next." 

"Wait, if silver bullets don't work, how did it manage to pierce our protection spell?" Stiles wondered aloud.

Fiona shook her head. "You let your guard down, you all did. Magic isn't as all encompassing as you four think it is, it requires constant attention. You allowed yourselves to believe you were a group of normal teenagers on a night out, and all the energy you put into your spell went back into the Earth, leaving you defenseless."

She grabbed her purse, motioning for her students to follow her out. "Allison will be discharged tomorrow afternoon. Get some rest tonight, tomorrow we're going to the Ninth Ward. We have to warn Marie LaVeau of what's headed our way."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Cornrow City was a small corner shop located in the Ninth Ward. The cozy barbershop was decently filled with customers, getting their hair and nails done. There was a slight tension when Fiona and her students entered, but it quickly passed as a young girl at the front desk greeted them. 

Fiona sat primly on one of the plush couches in the shop, flipping through a magazine. Erica got a set of acrylics while Lydia argued with a hairdresser about cutting Stiles' hair.

"I was thinking more of a Natalie Portman pixie cut," the redhead told the woman, running her fingers idly through Stiles' tresses.

"I don't now about all of that, but I can make him look like Toni Braxton," the woman offered.

Lydia's face broke into a Cheshire grin. "Deal."

It wasn't long before the beaded doorway to the back of the shop shifted, and a gorgeous young woman entered. She had long, intricate braids running down her back, her lips painted a dark red, her eyes wild and challenging.

She prowled over to Fiona, taking the seat opposite hers.

"Well, well," she said, a taunting tone in her voice. "Now to what do I owe the pleasure of having the White Witches come to my shop?"

"It's nice to see you're as accommodating as ever, Marie," Fiona replied, putting her magazine down. "I'm here to warn you about the hunters. They attacked one of my girls last night, they're looking for a war."

Marie scoffed, waving her hand dismissively at the Supreme. " _And?_ That sounds like a you problem. Ain't no witch hunters ever been around these parts, and I intend to keep it that way."

Fiona shook her head. "You think they won't come straight for you once they're done with us? Hunters don't differentiate magics, Marie. Witchcraft, Voodoo, Santeria, it's all the same to them. We need to work together on this."

Marie cackled, tossing her hair back as she did. "I see now. You can't handle this little problem yourself, so you thought you could come in here and beg for my black magic to save you?"

"Oh, I'm not begging," Fiona responded, lighting a cigarette. "Hell, I'm not even asking. If you want to let this little shit hole salon of yours burn because you don't know a real threat when you see one, then be my guest."

Fiona leaned forward, blowing smoke petulantly in Marie's face. "Let's not forget Marie, you may be immortal, but the rest of your tribe is not."

Fiona rose from her chair, motioning for her students to follow her.

"We'll be in touch," Fiona called over her shoulder, tossing a few hundred dollar bills onto the counter before exiting the shop, a dark look on her face.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Scott snarled as Derek slammed him against the wall as their pack watched, their eyes glowing.

"I told you to back off," Derek growled, his grip tightening on Scott's jacket.

"You can't just lay claim to whomever you want, asshole," Scott spat. "I saved him, I ran into him, I get to see him!"

"I saved him too," Derek argued, loosening his grip. "And I'm not laying claim to anyone. We came here for a reason."

Scott huffed, glaring at his Alpha. "We came to track down the hunters and destroy them. And we know they're here cuz they shot that girl outside that club last night. You never said we couldn't kill the bastards _and_ have a life."

Derek shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "You all need to be focused. Relationships get in the way of that."

"You're only saying that because you've got the hots for him too, buddy," Jackson said lazily from the couch. 

Derek snarled at the boy, who merely shrugged and turned his attention to the TV. "I don't want to hear anything more about dating and relationships. We came to kill the hunters. After that, we're heading back to Beacon Hills and going back to our normal routine." He turned to his still fuming beta. "Neither you nor I will ever see Stiles again after we leave Louisiana, so there's no point in continuing this pissing contest."

Derek left the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

"That was almost civil for Derek," Boyd commented, joining Jackson on the couch.

"If he had just gone to the movies with us last night, he'd see that Stiles and I are a total match," Scott grumbled.

Scott and Stiles had a great time with Jackson and Boyd at the movies, with Stiles eventually getting scared and burrowing into Scott's side at the more frightening parts of the film. Afterwards the four went for pizza and soda, enjoying themselves until Stiles got a call from one of his friends, making him leave in a hurry.

"Who do you think called him away last night?" Scott questioned.

Jackson shrugged. "Probably his super jealous boyfriend who's gonna murder you for touching his boy."

Scott rolled his eyes, but kept thinking. "You know, he was with those girls we always see coming and going from that big mansion two streets over the night he was attacked. Do you think he lives with them?"

"Isn't that a girl's boarding school?" Boyd questioned.

"Are you forgetting he was wearing a skirt when we ran into him?" Jackson retorted.

"Maybe they're connected," Scott muttered to himself. He made a mental note to himself to add a little wolfsbane to the pack's dinner that night; he needed to sneak out and check out that house.


	5. The Council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Council questions Fiona's authority, and Marie commits an act of war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought Zoe's power was stupid and never fully fleshed out on the show, so I tweaked it to hopefully make more sense. As always, like, comment and enjoy!

Fiona sneered at the three sitting before her. Myrtle Snow, a member of the Council of Witchcraft, glared at her through her red glasses, her associates Pemberly and Quentin flanking her on the ornate couch.

"Myrtle Snow," Fiona drawled, her voice saccharine. "What a lovely surprise."

"Fiona," Myrtle greeted diplomatically, unfazed by the Supreme's ire. "It's been quite a while, you're looking well."

"As are you, it's good to see you've finally developed a sense of style."

Quentin chuckled at the barb, before silencing himself at Myrtle's harsh glare. Fiona rolled her eyes at the exchange.

"So what are you old biddies doing here?"

"We're here," Myrtle replied, "because of the troubling recent events that have unfolded at this school. One of your students was shot the other night, another assaulted in the bathroom last week. And just yesterday you went to Marie LaVeau's territory and strained a fifty year truce just to antagonize her. This coven is in serious danger, and the Council will decide if you are still fit to run it."

And with that, the interviews began. Each witch was called in to speak to the Council, recounting the last few weeks as best they could.

"Marie LaVeau is really nice, a bit intimidating, but her girls do great work," Erica informed them, showing off her immaculate manicure.

"Allison was shot by a hunter, a member of the group that has been here for the past month," Lydia said lazily, leaving out that she knew the hunter who shot her was Allison's father. "Perhaps if you had come sooner, this wouldn't have happened."

"I was assaulted by some humans, I don't see how that's any concern of the Sanderson Sisters," Stiles quipped, gesturing to the council members with ill concealed annoyance. Fiona snorted from her seat in the room, admiring the gall her grandchild had.

"We must break to speak with the rest of the Council," Myrtle informed Fiona. "We will return afterwards to speak with Allison."

The Council left the manor, Fiona locking the door behind them. "Those three are nothing but trouble," she warned her students. "Don't give them any more information than necessary."

As the day wore on, the young witches had yet to hear from the Council. They spent the afternoon studying spells and playing cards, Lydia winning every hand due to her psychic advantage. The sun had just begun to set when the Council returned.

"We must speak to Allison Argent," Myrtle informed them. "And we will be staying for supper."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The dining room table, which normally held light conversation and easy laughter, was tense and silent with the addition of its guests. Fiona sat at the head of the table, face drawn and stony, as the three Council members sat across from her students, Allison between Erica and Stiles, with Lydia seated on the opposite end. 

Isaac moved quickly and gracefully about the room, bringing each course with quiet dignity.

"So tell me Allison," Myrtle inquired after a long sip of tea, "just how did you end up alone in that alley?"

There was a long pause, the tension in the room palpable.

"I noticed a man following us as we left the mansion," she replied slowly. "When we entered the bar, I spotted him near the exit, watching us. I followed him out into the alley, where he shot me."

"How interesting," the bushy haired witch commented, taking a bite of chicken. "Did he say anything to you?"

"Nothing of merit, I can assure you," Allison replied sharply. "And I don't think this is appropriate dinner conversation."

"The girl's right," Fiona remarked coldly. "If you wish to badger my students you can wait until after dessert to do so, Myrtle."

Before Myrtle could reply, a loud crashing sound rang out from outside. The witches leapt from the table, racing to the large windows over looking the front yard.

The lawn was alight with flames as Marie LaVeau stood defiantly with her tribe, each wearing ornate tribal clothing. The wrought iron fence was twisted, lying in a mangled heap in the cobbled street. Flanking Marie stood at least twenty undead corpses, their eyes milky and unseeing.

"You invade our lands, we invade yours!" Marie's voice boomed, cutting through the night air.

She raised her hand to the mansion, speaking quickly and harshly in an unknown language. The corpses sprang to life, trudging towards the house. They smashed themselves against the walls, bodies colliding with wood and glass. Isaac went to fortify the door, and was grabbed and pulled screaming outside by the horde.

Allison screamed as she watched the monsters tear into the boy's neck, exsanguinating him before returning to the house.

"Girls, Stiles, go upstairs," Fiona said quietly. " _Now_."

"We're staying with you, we can help!" Stiles argued, crossing his arms.

Fiona shot him a glare, but shook her head in resignation. "I suppose it's time you learned to fight."

Ascending the stairs at a rapid pace, Fiona raced to the second floor balcony, her students and the Council following after her. She leaned over the railing, waving her hand and igniting several of the corpses. Erica was the first to join her, following her Supreme's example and setting ablaze the ones Fiona missed. Stiles clenched his fist, and brought down a large tree in the neighboring yard onto some of the undead. Lydia began muttering in Latin, causing the fire hydrant near the corner to burst open and the water to cascade over the flames Marie had created on the lawn. 

The Council stood in awe as the small coven fought valiantly against the horde. It wasn't until Fiona unleashed a final burst of magical energy that the corpses fell and Marie and her tribe were banished from the property, vanishing with a loud _CRACK!_

Allison ran down to the porch, where Isaac's limp body lay.

"No, no, no," she sobbed, holding his lifeless body to her chest.

She gazed down upon him, feeling a foreign power course through her veins. She concentrated, wishing with all her might that Isaac would return to her.

The others reached the doorway just as the color returned to the butler's cheeks and he inhaled a gasp of air, coughing and sputtering as life was breathed into him from Allison's body.

"So that's what her wonky power was all about," Lydia muttered. "Allison has the power of Resurgence." She noted Stiles' and Erica's confused faces.   
"Resurrection," she corrected. 

"She has the power to weigh the scales of life and death. She can give life as easily as she takes it, and because her first magical experience was so stressful and traumatic, she was stuck in a kind of limbo, she could kill people, with sex for some strange reason, but not resurrect them. Until now, that is."

Isaac struggled to catch, his breath, before regaining some of his composure.

"I don't suppose one of you could bring _me_ some tea for a change?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"The Council has reached a decision," Myrtle announced.

The witches had spent the entire next day cleaning the yard while local handymen were hired to repair the doors and windows. The police had been charmed into believing the damage was due to vandals who struck in the dead of night. The sun had already set when the three members returned from their meeting with the rest of the Council.

The coven gathered around the three Council members, waiting with baited breath.

"As of yesterday, the Council was ready to have Fiona removed as Supreme." Myrtle declared, her eyes softening. "However, after watching how bravely you and your students fought to protect this coven, Pemberly, Quentin and I have persuaded them otherwise."

Myrtle stepped towards Fiona, eyes shining. "Fiona, you and I have never got on, but I must commend you for your outstanding performance keeping these young witches safe. Your methods, while unorthodox, have proven successful time and time again. I take my leave from this school, and I hope I shall not be back for some time."

Myrtle pulled Fiona into an awkward hug, which the Supreme reciprocated stiffly. The three Council members left the house, leaving the Supreme with her students.

"Well, as far as Council visits go, I say that one was the most exciting yet," Fiona remarked with a smirk. She lit up a cigarette before sending her students into town to get dinner, since Isaac was still recovering in his room.

Fiona climber the stairs to her personal bedroom, where a tan young man was climbing through her window.

She let out a shocked cry, causing the boy to look up, his eyes flashing yellow. 

" _Wolf_ ," she spat, raising her hand. The boy was flung through the window, where he collided with a tree and was impaled onto the newly erected wrought iron fence.

Fiona barely had time to catch her breath before a blood curdling howl was heard echoing from across town, followed by several others chiming in.


	6. Power Surge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a new chapter for ya! Inspiration struck and I wanted to get this out as soon as possible. As always, read, like and comment! Enjoy!

"What the fuck was that?" Erica asked as howling echoed through the small restaurant.

"It sounds like it's coming from outside," Stiles replied, setting down his menu.

The witches had gone to a cozy French restaurant at Lydia's insistence. They had just been seated when the howling broke out across town.

"It sounds like the wolves," Allison remarked, tensing slightly.

Stiles shook his head. "Whatever it is they're howling about, it sounds like they're far enough away not to be a bother. Besides, I don't think they'll harm us."

The girls shot him looks of disbelief, but didn't object. The waiter came over, giving the four an easy smile.

"What can I get started for you this evening?" He asked smoothly.

"Hmmm, how about a bottle of wine?" Stiles asked with a cheeky grin.

The waiter laughed. "I'm afraid you're too young for that, how about a Coca-Cola?"

"Awww, c'mon, do it for me?" Stiles teased.

The waiters face went blank, his pupils dilating.

"I'll be right back with your bottle of wine," he replied, his smile returning.

As he left, the girls rounded on Stiles.

"What the hell was that?" Lydia hissed.

"It looks like Stiles has a new power," Allison commented. "One that just got us a bottle of wine."

Stiles listened to their praises and concerns with only half an ear, his thoughts drifting.

_Since when can I do mind control? How long have I had this? Is that why Fiona just gave me twenty bucks yesterday? No, she gave money to all of us, probably for fixing up the house-_

"Stiles!" Lydia snapped.

Stiles snapped out of his thoughts, jumping slightly.

"Don't space out on us like that man, the table started to shake!" Erica complained.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he replied meekly, casting his eyes downward.

"Stiles, are you alright?" Allison asked, concern in her eyes.

Stiles shook his head. "I think I just need some rest."

All conversation of magic and powers fell silent as the charmed waiter brought a chilled bottle of Chardonnay to the table, a vapid smile fixed to his face.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When the four returned to the house, they detected the smell of burning wood coming from the backyard. When they reached the back of the property, they spotted Fiona telekinetically throwing logs onto a giant bonfire.

"What on earth are you burning, swamp weeds?" Erica asked, pinching her nose.

"Close," Fiona replied, adding more logs. "It's wolfsbane, a special strain that only grows in the swamps. I'm fortifying the property against wolves."

Lydia looked at the fire, before collapsing. "Oh my god, you killed him! You killed Scott!"

Stiles whipped his head to Lydia at the mention of the name, before turning his attention to his Supreme. "You...you killed Scott?"

Fiona rolled her eyes. "Stop being so dramatic. The boy's not dead, just wounded. And he wouldn't be any of those things if you had just listened to me!"

The bonfire flared as Fiona's temper rose. "I told you to stay away from the wolves, twice! And now they're creeping through the windows of this house! The boy's just lucky there's no mountain ash on the new fence yet, or he would be dead. Now those beasts know our secret, and it's only a matter of time before they come after us."

The four looked at one another, unsure what to say. 

"I'm sorry, Fiona," Stiles began, stepping forward. "I should have listened to you."

Fiona shook her head, before pulling the boy into a tight hug. "Don't you understand you're all I have left?" She whispered, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

Stiles hugged back just as fiercely, fighting off tears of his own. Fiona released the boy, turning to her other students. "That goes for all of you as well. You are my students, and my coven, and I care for you just as much as I do Stiles. I don't wish to see anything bad happen to you."

The girls each gave their Supreme a hug, promising to be much more careful. Erica ran inside and grabbed marshmallows, and the four students began making s'mores in the bonfire, much to Fiona's amusement.

"By the way, Stiles has a new power," Lydia informed the Supreme between bites of her dessert. "He used mind control to get us wine with dinner."

"Did he, now?" Fiona teased, biting into her own s'more. "That doesn't surprise me, most witches can manifest more than one power, and magic tends to spike when a witch is in danger, which we all are. Tomorrow we'll begin training your new power, Stiles, along with teaching all of you more powerful combat magic. I have a bad feeling that you're going to need it."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As Scott limped through the alleys of New Orleans, he tried to collect his thoughts. The woman he saw as he was climbing through the window of the mansion knew he was a wolf. What's more, she managed to fling him out of the window with enough force to crush a tree branch and crush a few of his ribs without so much as touching him.

 _Are there other supernatural creatures besides werewolves?_ He thought to himself. 

As he continued walking, he heard a whizzing sound and felt a sharp pain in his neck. He pulled a small dart from his neck, only to fall unconscious onto the dirty alley floor.

"Looks like this is our lucky day, boys," Chris Argent said to his team, glaring down at the knocked out wolf.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Derek and his pack tore through the streets, their half shifted forms hidden by the dark streets. The Alpha followed his Beta's scent to an alley behind a shop called Cornrow City, where Scott's scent stops and another begins.

"The hunters have him," Derek spat, he eyes glowing crimson.

The sound of voices caused the wolves to crouch behind a dumpster, cloaked in darkness. 

"-get that damn Fiona and her little White Witch country club if it kills me, don't you worry about that."

Derek narrowed his eyes. So there were witches in New Orleans. 


	7. House Guest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Sorry this one took so long, got busy w work. Anyway, enjoy!

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Stiles grumbled as he moved towards the front door. The sun had just begun to rise over the New Orleans horizon when a furious pounding could be heard outside the mansion.

Stiles opened the door to reveal Marie LaVeau, bloody and wounded, leaning against the door frame. 

"Please," she panted, breathing harshly, "help me."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Fiona entered the dining room, her silk night robe pulled taught against her, she was greeted with the sight of her only grandchild sitting with Marie LaVeau, who was wrapped in a plush blanket, a cup of tea in her hands.

"Marie," Fiona greeted smoothly, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Instead of the usual snappy remarks and clever threats, Marie responded by casting her eyes to the floor, a vision of contrition.

"I'm sorry for what I did to you and your girls," she replied, "and for not believing you about those damned hunters.

"Those monsters came into my shop just before closing. They had guns and knives and all manner of weaponry. They began firing, killing everyone inside, including the humans. I managed to take some of the bastards down before they shot me. Pumped me full of lead. But I've lived through the worst of humanity, a couple of cracker ass hunters can't stop me."

She wiped a tear from her eye. "I just wish I could say the same for everyone else."

Fiona's face remained impassive, but her eyes glimmered with ill concealed compassion.

"Stiles, go back to your room, I'll take it from here."

Stiles nodded and gave Marie a soft smile before heading upstairs. 

Fiona shook her head, "The kid is sweet, but naive to think a cup of tea is going to help. Here, I'll fix you a drink."

~*~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~

"So the murderous voodoo queen who killed Isaac and tried to burn down our house is living here now?" Lydia asked drily, her eyebrow quirked.

"I know it seems crazy, but the woman just lost everything she has. Plus she'll be a real asset when we take down the hunters," Stiles reasoned.

Erica shrugged. "I have no problem with her staying here as long as we keep her away from the matches."

"I'd ask Allison what she thinks, but she's to busy mooning over the butler," Stiles snorted.

"Well, at least now she has a hobby," Lydia replied with a lecherous grin.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"How are you feeling today?" Allison asked the curly haired boy as she entered his room, breakfast arranged in a silver tray.

"Much better," he replied with a soft smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Allison set the tray down, sitting on the corner of his bed. "I don't mean to pry, but what was it like? Dying, I mean."

Isaac's eyes fluttered shut, his body shivering. "I felt a cold wash over me as it happened. I could feel the pain going away, but it was a numbness I could feel in my bones. Then there was nothing. I've heard Miss Fiona speak of the afterlife, what it's like for different people. I guess I wasn't dead long enough to see anything good or bad, but I don't know if even the bad would be worse than the dark and the cold and the numbness."

By the time he finished, there were tears in Allison's eyes.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you," she whispered.

With a sudden renewed vigor, Isaac pulled himself up and leaned over to the girl, giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek.

"You saved me from that," he said with gravely, "and don't you forget it."

Allison simply nodded, speechless.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Due to the butler still recovering and the addition of another mouth to feed in the house, the girls and Stiles were tasked with grocery shopping. Lydia was given the keys, since neither Stiles nor Erica could really be trusted with an Aston Martin, and the four drove to the nearest supermarket. 

Lydia and Allison price checked the items and scanned the nutrition labels, while Stiles and Erica made a game of seeing who could sneak the most candy into the cart. 

"I'll agree to getting this obscene amount of chocolate bars and Sour Punch Straws if you'll go to the car and grab the reusable bags," Lydia told Stiles.

As the boy made his way to the car, he thought about all of the new, exciting kinds of magic Marie could teach him and his sister witches.

He was so engrossed in his own thoughts, he didn't notice the rag of chloroform nearing his face until it was too late.

As the world around him darkened, the last thing the young witch saw was a pair of glowing red eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Stiles awoke, he found himself tied to a chair, placed in the center of a shabby apartment. Surrounding him were the werewolves, each one more menacing than the last.

"Hello, _Witch_ ," Derek growled, and Stiles' blood ran cold.


	8. Hatefuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter bitches! I'm horrible at writing intimacy, so I hope this doesn't sound too forced. Anyways, read, comment and enjoy!

"Ya know Derek, if you wanted me tied up all you had to do is ask," Stiles purred, trying to disguise the terror he felt. 

"Shut up," the wolf growled, eyes red. "Where's Scott."

"How the hell should I know?" Stiles snapped, trying to loosen his binds.

"I smelled his scent outside that house of yours, his blood was on the fence."

Stiles paused, unsure of how to answer. "I'll tell you what happened while he was at the mansion, if you send you goons out."

Derek glared at the boy, but nodded. The other wolves glanced warily at their alpha, before exiting, leaving the two alone.

"Alright, the girls and I weren't home when Scott came by," Stiles began, "but Fiona, our headmistress, was. He climbed through her window and spooked her and pushed him back out of it. He hit the fence, but there wasn't anything harmful to supernatural creatures on it. He got up and ran away, and we haven't seen him since."

Derek didn't pick up any signs of dishonesty in his words, no upticks of the heart. "We followed his scent to a small hair shop, along with the scent of hunters."

Stiles nodded, "We fought them a few times, they shot Allison last week. Sounds like we have a common enemy."

Derek shot him a hard look,"Witches can't be trusted."

Stiles smirked. "Especially when they escape captivity."

Before Derek could react, the ropes fell from Stiles' body, and the boy leapt up, throwing a hand out at Derek.

The wolf was slammed against the wall, making a loud crack. Stiles bolted to the door, but the wolf was faster, pinning the boy between the wood and his body.

The two looked at one another, panting, before Derek snarled and grabbed the boy's jaw, meeting his lips in a searing kiss.

The two's tongues battled for dominance as the wolf grabbed the witch by the hips and hoisted him in the air, muscular arms holding the slighter boy taught against him.

A few minutes later the two landed on the bed, Derek on top of Stiles, clothes flying off.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"WHERE IS HE?" Fiona screamed, her ire causing vases to smash and windows to rattle. 

The three girls had managed to get their groceries to the car with plastic bags, grumbling about their lazy classmate, when they realized the boy was missing. The three raced back to the mansion, informing their Supreme of his disappearance. 

"We don't know, he went to the car to get grocery bags and disappeared," Lydia said, staring down at her feet.

"We're sorry Miss Fiona," Erica said meekly.

Fiona paused and looked at her students' terrified faces, and the shocked face of Marie LaVeau, before taking a deep breath, calming herself.

"I'm sorry girls, I'm not angry with you," she amended, lighting up a cigarette. "It's not your fault, and out of all of you, Stiles can hold his own the best in any given situation."

The Supreme turned to Lydia. "Can you see or feel anything?"

Lydia's eyes fluttered shut, focusing her power. She could feel touches and brushes against her skin, before a wave of pleasure ripped through her body.

The girl screamed as pain and ecstasy crashed into her, causing the window nearest her to shatter. 

"Holy shit, what was that?" Erica gasped.

Lydia simply looked at the window, dumbfounded. "Did I do that?"

"You did indeed, child," Marie's sultry voice rang out. "You've got the gift of the banshee."

"Banshee? As in the Scottish screaming ghost lady?" Allison inquired.

Marie smirked. "Something like that, only it wasn't no ghost that started that rumor. Witches can take credit for most of the superstitions in the world, same with some spirits and of course, the wolves."

Fiona pulled the redhead into a half hug. "Go rest now, we'll discuss this more later."

As Lydia ascended the stairs to her room, Fiona turned to her other students, handing them each a beautiful lilac crystal on a black string. "Take these and search the town, they'll help you find Stiles. And be prepared to fight anything that you find, we don't know who or what has him."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Johnathon Stilinski looked numbly at the drink in front of him. 

He had come to New Orleans to visit his son, only for Fiona to tell him he and the girls went grocery shopping. Rather than st and wait with his crazy mother in law and bloody friend, he went to the nearest bar for a drink.

"This one's for you, Claudia," he murmured as he knocked his whiskey back. 

"I used to say little things like that when my wife passed," a man taking the seat next to his said conversationally. "Been five years and I still miss her like it was yesterday."

John nodded. "Mine's been gone ten."

The man shook his head. "The pain lessens every day, but my daughter still has a rough time dealing with it. I'm here to visit her."

"Same here, my kid's at that Miss Robichaux school."

The man smiled, his eyes gleaming. "I'm afraid I didn't catch your name, stranger."

"Johnathon Stilinski," the sheriff said, extending his hand.

The man gripped it with a surprising strength and vigor. 

"Chris Argent, pleasure to meet you."


	9. The Graveyard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are picking up quick because I'm losing interest in this story and want to finish it while I still enjoy writing it. Only one or two chapters left to go!

"Another dead end."

Allison let out a sigh of frustration as the glowing crystal she held aloft began to dim and lose it's shine at the loss of Stiles' magical trail.

"Where could that skinny bastard be?" Erica muttered, raising her crystal high in the air and waiving it as if hoping to get a good phone signal.

"I don't know, but this is the fifth street we've combed and we haven't found anything useful," the brunette replied. She was about to throw in the towel and return to the manor when the crystal lit up, swaying to the East as if being pulled by an invisible cord.

Allison looked up at her friend and shrugged.

"Guess we're going this way."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The abandoned graveyard outside of town would be an excellent place to do spooky spells, Stiles mused from his spot on the roof overlooking the burial grounds.

Next to him, Derek glared intently down at the space, his enhanced vision allowing him to see the hunters congregated below.

"They have Scott," he snarled, his nose flaring at the familiar scent.

Stiles stood up and placed a tentative hand on the wolf's shoulder."How do you wanna play this, big guy?" He asked softly.

Derek studied the witch for a moment, before turning back to the graveyard. "I need you to create a distraction; do your witchy bullshit and I'll kill the rest. Once we have Scott, we book it out of there."

Stiles gave the man a curt nod, before leaping from the building, his powers softening his landing. He snuck into the graveyard, careful not to make much noise. As he crept closer, he could make out their conversation.

"-why he would even bother with a civilian," He heard a male voice say with a snort.

"He's not a civilian, he's a sheriff," a female replied, her voice tinged with annoyance. "Besides, he's related to one of the witches, killing him will help break down their strength."

Stiles froze, his blood turning to ice. They had his father.

Instinct completely took over, and the power that normally simply thrummed from under his skin bloomed and radiated outward, like a physical chill from within him. Thick, wicked vines shot from the ground, grabbing several hunters and dismembering them. A few of their numbers reached for their weapons, only to find them turning to ash in their hands. A low growl emanated from behind, before Derek leaped out and mauled the nearest hunter, his eyes blood red.

Stiles could feel his power consuming him, but he continued his onslaught, creating magic so delicate and strong Fiona would've made him Supreme on the spot. He reached deep into the minds of the hunters, turning them against each other. He looked up at the almost full moon in the sky, watching as thick dark clouds enshrouded the sky and bright purple lightning cracked down and scorched the grounds.

As the last of the hunters had succumbed to death, Stiles felt his power retract, melting back into his body like morning glory pulling its petals back into itself. He jerked his head over to Derek at the man's strangled sound.

Scott's body was crumpled into a shallow grave, his lifeless form covered in lesions and bullet holes. Had Stiles moved any closer, he would've detected the scent of wolf's bane and mountain ash stuffed into Scott's wounds, keeping him weak and susceptible.

The howl Derek let out was so mournful and terrible Stiles wasn't sue how his heart managed to keep from splitting in two. Perhaps it already had, upon the news of his father.

Before either man could speak, the screech of Stiles' name caused him to turn to see his coven mates dashing towards him. Allison threw her arms around him, while Erica lit up her fingers, her eyes locked on the lycanthrope before her.

"It was you, wasn't it?" She spat. "You're the one who kidnapped Stiles."

The low growl that ripped its way through Derek's chest was the only indication Stiles needed that the man wasn't going to act rationally to the presence of more witches.

The wolf roared as he lunged at the blonde witch, only to look around in confusion as she disappeared. A few feet away Erica re-materialized, a look of shock on her face.

"No way!" She exclaimed, grinning despite herself. "This is totally bitchin'!"

She teleported over to her sister witches, grabbing their sleeves and thinking of home, of Fiona's cigarette smell and Lydia's perfume.

Stiles and Allison felt as though they has been strapped to a bullet train and pulled by their stomachs across the state, appearing in the parlor of the manor they knew to be home.

A soft chuckle from behind them made the students jump.

"Transmutation, just as Lydia predicted," Fiona commented lightly, turning to a displeased looking Marie LaVeau. "You owe me ten bucks."

The voodoo queen rolled her eyes but fished a ten out of her bra, floating it over to the Supreme.

"We have to go back," Stiles pleaded, shaking Erica's wrist. "Derek needs me!"

"Stiles, he _kidnapped_ you," Lydia said slowly, her head swimming with the boy's exploits from the past day.

Fiona's eyes hardened. "How many times are you willing to let those mutts trick you, Stiles?"

"They have my dad!" he wailed, eyes brimming with tears threatening to slide down his pale cheeks. "The hunters are going to kill my dad and Derek is the only one who can help!"

The witch fell to the ground, sobbing brokenly. Marie took pity on him, kneeling down and wrapping the boy in her arms. "Shush, now. Don't you worry about your father. We will rescue him and finish off these damn hunters." The fire in her eyes was too much for most to handle, but Stiles took comfort in her fierce determination.

Stiles inhaled shakily, rising to his feet. "The wolves are dumb boys, all of them, but they are not evil."

He crossed the room to his Supreme, his eyes soft. "Those hunters killed the Alpha's entire family. No one was spared, not even the children. Derek doesn't like magic, but he doesn't hate us."

Lydia looked at the boy, her eyes boring into him. _The wolf is in love with Stiles_ , she mentally informed her Supreme.

Fiona's eyes lit up, but her expression was tired. She sat down in her armchair, lighting up a cigarette.

"We will enlist the help of the wolves to end these hunters once and for all," she announced. "Once the threat has been dealt with, the wolves will have to leave. I won't kill them, but they are not welcome in New Orleans any longer."

She turned to the fire crackling in the ornate fireplace, her expression dark.

"Tomorrow, we go to war."


End file.
